But and Other Fine Words of Hidden Doubt
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: Nick knows he loves Greg, but what are you supposed to do when the man you love is self-destructing in front of your very eyes? Greg’s losing control, and Nick doesn’t know what to do. Two chapters. Angst. Slash. Nick/Greg. Nick’s POV.
1. Part One

**Author's Note: **Two chapters. Angst. Slash. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV.

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks goes out to Amanda for proofreading for me.

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters mentioned are mine.

**Summary: **Nick knows he loves Greg, but what are you supposed to do when the man you love is self-destructing in front of your very eyes? Greg's losing control, and Nick doesn't know what to do.

**But… and Other Fine Words of Hidden Doubt  
**_**Part One**_

The house was quiet. Silent. A stillness that was in between deathly and comforting. An almost audible echo bounced off the walls… an echo of a one sided fight. A one sided argument. A one sided entity that had broken two lives… and a lamp.

Sighing with extreme exhaustion, Nick bent down and one handedly swept up the fragmented shards of his favorite lamp. The lamp shaped like a football. The lamp his father had given to him on his eleventh birthday.

He grasped the dustpan and pushed the shards into it with the shabby broom. Standing, he made his slow way to the garbage and dumped the broken lamp into the trash, throwing out a piece of his past.

Absentmindedly Nick wandered into the brightening living room and deposited himself onto the cool leather couch. He put his feet up, rubbing his temple.

Another fight.

Well, could you call it a "fight" when he didn't retaliate? When he let Greg say whatever he wanted to, to scream whatever he wanted to, to do whatever the hell he wanted to?

Nick sat up, an undercurrent of fury flowing through his veins, underneath the fatigue.

Greg had gone too far this time. Raising his hand almost subconsciously, he lightly rubbed his swollen cheek.

Greg hadn't just broken a lamp; he had shattered their relationship in two swift blows… one that sent the lamp soaring through the room, the other sending Nick to the floor, gasping in pain and astonishment.

In a flash Greg was at his side, helping him to his feet.

_"Nick, I… I'm so sorry."_

_"You always are, Greg."_

_"I swear I didn't mean to, Nick, I just..."_

_"You never do."_

Had Greg seen Nick's cold, listless eyes? Had he heard the defeated tone in his voice? Did he see the sag in his boyfriend's shoulders?

_"Nick, I'm sorry…"_

Nick hadn't replied and Greg had escaped out of the house, almost as if someone was about to set him ablaze.

Nick cringed, his body tensing with the memory of Greg being in that lab explosion. It hadn't been life threatening, but it _had_ been one hell of a wakeup call. It was that night, as Nick sat beside his sleeping friend, when he realized that he had feelings for the younger man.

It had taken years for them to finally get together, but all their moments were worthwhile, all the hints and slight flirting finally emerging as something wonderful, something beautiful.

Nick smiled, but quickly let the smile slide off his face. It hurt too much to smile.

Of course he was still in love with Greg Sanders. There wasn't an ice cube's chance in hell that he didn't love that lab rat turned CSI. But…

Nick looked over his shoulder at the door, hoping that Greg would walk through it, but at the same time he wanted Greg to stay away, wherever he was. He was too tired to deal with this right now, too mentally and physically drained. Would he ever be completely ready to talk to Greg about why he was doing this? Nick doubted it with every fiber of his being. But it had to be done, or…

He didn't want to think of what would happen if Greg didn't change. This was the first time he had ever physically hurt Nick. Sure, Greg's words tore deep into Nick's heart, but he could handle it. He gave Greg a break, but now…

Yawning, Nick stood and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He grabbed a blue coffee cup out of the cupboard and went to the fridge. He was about to open it when he paused, staring intently at colorful photo taped with care to the door.

Nick's hand closed around the fridge handle, but he didn't open it. His eyes took in the scene unfolding before him, hidden in that photo.

It was a photo Nick had taken of Greg and his mother the day she arrived in Las Vegas, and three days before she died.

Greg's mother had always wanted to come to Las Vegas, so Greg volunteered their house as a place for her to stay. Greg had always been open about his sexuality, but Nick… well for some reason he was always scared of what everyone would think of him. Who had ever heard of a gay cowboy from Texas?

Mrs. Sanders looked nothing like Greg, except for the eyes. They both had the same deep, rich coffee-brown eyes that sparkled and twinkled. The same eyes that portrayed their inner feelings, those feelings that they just couldn't express.

Nick had taken a shining to her right from the get go. Sure, Greg could complain about how overprotective she was of him, but Nick could tell that Mrs. Sanders hadn't have wanted Greg to be labeled a "geek" in high school… she was just scared for him.

They had spent a great couple of mornings together; Nick and Greg would go off to work at night while Greg's mother would go off to shop or look around, and they would spend most of the morning together. It worked for all of them, until…

Nick's eyes burned with tears but none of them were threatening to flow. He had cried enough. He had accepted what had happened. He was moving on. Greg was not.

Not long after Mrs. Sanders' death, Greg changed. On the outside he still seemed to be the same old Greg. Always there with a joke, always there with an encouraging word or a goofy smile. But at home… at home he was different. When was the last time Greg had joked around with Nick? The last time he had said anything nice to Nick… or smiled at him. That smile that told Nick that everything would be okay, when in truth his world was falling apart before his very eyes.

He couldn't comfort Greg. He would lie awake every night, just waiting for Greg to finally start to let his pure, agonizing grief out, but that moment would never come. Greg hadn't shed a tear for his mother. Not one pearly little droplet of moisture had escaped from Greg's heart, his soul.

At the weakest moments of their relationship, Nick wondered if Greg had become heartless, a monster of sorts. A monster who had started to holler at him instead of letting his true feelings out.

The fights had started not long after the funeral. Nick would try to approach the subject of Greg's mother, and Greg had retreated defensively, then attacking Nick verbally, but Nick was persistent. He would get Greg to talk about it sometime, or he would die trying.

Realizing he had been standing in front of the fridge for the past five minutes, Nick gave himself a shake and opened the fridge, welcoming the frigid blast of air that wafted out. He grabbed the water pitcher and poured himself some water. He took a sip, the cool liquid extinguishing the fire that had been raging inside of him.

Had Nick given himself a death sentence? If he pushed the subject even further, would Greg completely snap? Nick would like to hope that Greg would never, ever do that, but…

Again, there was that word. The word that exposed those hidden and secret thoughts of doubt… the word that showed what you were truly thinking.

Nick touched his swollen face then flinched. How could Greg have done that? How could he have lost control like that?

Nick took another drink of water. Now what was he supposed to do? Should he talk to Greg about it, ignore it, or…

There was always the possibility of Greg changing under threat. What if he was to up and leave Greg all by himself? He would come back if, and only if, Greg would finally start communicating again. Greg couldn't lock himself inside his head. His inner demons would surely slaughter his soul… or had they already?

In the back of his mind, Nick heard the front door slowly open. He heard someone walk into the kitchen, and he could sense someone standing behind him. The kitchen seemed to become dead silent, except for an odd dripping noise…

Nick turned around, expecting the worst, but even then he wasn't prepared for what he saw.


	2. Part Two

**But… and Other Fine Words of Hidden Doubt  
**_**Part Two**_

Greg was standing in front of him, but it really wasn't the Greg Nick knew and loved. This was… a monster, a horror that could only be found lurking around a cemetery in the dead of night.

Was that him screaming in disgust and terror? Nick could feel his body seizing up, but he couldn't stop staring.

Greg was absolutely drenched in blood. His torn up clothes were unrecognizable under the grime. Greg's beautiful locks were falling out, deep gashes sliced into his scalp. Blood was pouring from his black and blue nose, his eyes also trickling the red liquid.

Greg opened his mouth and Nick could see he was missing many teeth, and more blood ran out the side of his mouth and down his chin.

Nick could feel his stomach lurch. He was going to be sick.

This couldn't have happened.

"I did this for you, Nick. I did this so you wouldn't leave me," Greg shrieked at him, blood spraying Nick's face.

Greg took another step towards him, then crumpled to the floor, his body twisting at an impossible angle. His head slammed the ground and he stirred no more.

"GREG!" Nick screamed, his voice cracking from the strain.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._

He was going to throw up.

He had to call an ambulance.

_Please God, don't let him be dead. _

It was his fault if he was dead.

"Greg!"

His own scream woke him up. In a wild panic, Nick jumped up from the couch, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.

"Greg?" Panting, Nick raced into the kitchen. No blood. No Greg on the floor.

Dropping to his knees at the place where Greg had fallen, he scoured the floor. No trace of anything.

Nick pushed his back up against the counter, his terror rapidly changing to tears. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream, that it had never happened, but the tears still continued to flow out of him.

It had looked so real. The fear he had felt as he gazed at the younger man had consumed him.

The image of the blood drenched and broken Greg swam in front of his eyes and Nick retched, turning to his right as the vomit hit the tile. He coughed, trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth. He couldn't stop sobbing.

He heard a key jingling in the lock at the front door, then he heard the door open. The person stopped abruptly, listening to Nick's crying, then…

"Nick? Nick, are you okay?" Greg asked, rushing into the kitchen and kneeling in front of him. Greg's face was blurred, but he could still make out the concern there.

"Oh God Nick, I need to get you to a hospital," Greg said, his voice anxious.

"No, I'm okay Greg," Nick croaked, wiping his eyes. His cheek stung, but he ignored it.

"Nick, you are NOT okay!" Greg cried, close to hysteria.

"No, I swear I'm okay," Nick told him, coughing. "Can you help me up?"

Greg rushed forward and grasped the Texan's hands, pulling him to his feet. The world flashed around Nick, making him feel as if he was going to puke again.

Greg led Nick to the couch in the living room and sat him down. Greg then sat directly across from him on the coffee table, Nick's hands still in his own.

"Nick," Greg whispered, his face pale, "what the hell happened?"

Nick sighed and took a deep breath. "I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare about what?"

"You… you had… you had injured yourself because you thought I was going to leave you," Nick forced out. It hurt to think about the dream.

Greg was silent, his eyes not portraying an emotion.

"Were you thinking of leaving me, Nick? This was about me… me losing control, wasn't it?" Greg asked softly.

"I… I don't know, Greg. I just… I can't be here, seeing you self-destruct in front of me, especially when I can't help you," Nick told him in an undertone.

Greg shook his head and leaned back, his hands still holding Nick's firmly.

"I don't know what made me do it," he said, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "I didn't want to hear anymore about my… my mom, though. I want to be done thinking about her, but I can't. I just can't!"

Greg's body started to shake, tears sneaking out from behind his eyelids and trickling down his cheeks.

"Greg," Nick murmured gently, stroking his fingers, "the only way to move on is to talk about it."

Greg's eyes opened, the dark irises almost black.

"It hurts," he muttered, sniffling.

A flash of the dream Greg floated in front of Nick's eyes, but he forced it back. He would deal with that eventually, but there was a problem that was long overdue to be rectified.

"It always does, Greg. It's part of the healing process."

"I want to be done hurting."

"Then please," Nick pleaded, "talk to me."

Greg shut his eyes for a moment and Nick could see the younger man's body trembling.

Greg swallowed deeply, then opened his eyes. "I don't think I'm ready, but I will."

Nick nodded in understanding. "I don't think anyone ever is, Greg. I don't think anyone ever is."


End file.
